#and the occasional punk song

[w-t-k-n-s]

Let me see you stripped down to the bone

Leeds, March 1986.

They're off to a strip night, and Gwaine has no idea how much it will change his life.

He falls head over heels for one of the dancers, and a random encounter lets them meet properly, and Gwaine realises it isn't just Percival's body he likes. Slowly, they become an irreplaceable part of each other's lives. However, Percival's job starts to get in between them, and Gwaine's insecurities grow.

Will they make it together?

Weclome to my After Camlann Big Bang piece! I have absolutely loved writing this, and I am so excited to finally share it with the world!

Please feel free to leave any comments or messages, I would love to hear from you.

Huge thank you to @pkrosche for being an absolutely incredible beta reader, I can't thank them enough!

And the amazing icebreak1010 on deviantart who created a gorgeous piece of art to accompany this work! I am so grateful! Link to their work is here!

This fest has been so brilliant to be a part of, I have really enjoyed being a part of the community on discord and can't wait already to get back to writing!

Here is the @aftercamlann account and here is the livejournal to check out the other pieces completed for this wonderful fest. So happy to have been a part of it!

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoy.

[partiallypearl]

KATIE KNIGHT: BRAINS AND BEAUTY

kendall’s little sister. prank star. honestly could run for president and win 🏆

taglist: @selangkir @raging-violets @ceruleanmusings @myloveforhergoeson @happinessismagicc

[mids-stupid-shit]

Next chapter is tomorrow at high noon, so until then, have pretty girl sitting on something relatively high from the ground while listening to music

[edge-oftheworld]

when I was in high school there was a tendency whenever there was an attractive boy to simply fan over him. in a way that talked over everything he might say for himself and created a narrative that completely ignored, the fact in some cases, that he was really struggling—or if he was struggling, to pin all the blame on the girl he’s dating and completely ignore the thousands of other factors (no it can’t be mental illness or unaccommodated disability or systemic abuse or exploitation and if he is in an abusive relationship we won’t ever consider the factors that put him at risk for that)

and I’m not saying this fandom is like that. I get the need for privacy around some things and how in public conversations sometimes it’s a lot more respectful to stick to the positives (everyone who does that, I admire you) or even the struggles that are talked about publicly, show respect by not reading too far into them. there’s a time and place for that. but sometimes I feel like our only options are shitty and ableist gossip or totally ignoring the systemic and structural issues we know exist in something like the music industry until someone dies and then we’re looking for someone to blame. friends, there is a point where the respectful thing is to listen to what someone says and come together to make things better. and you can learn how to have that conversation respectfully. please do

[welcometogrouchland]

Sips juice box. I like to think the hexsquad start a garage band (goreage band on the boiling isles) briefly post-canon.

Raine taught all of them how to play (Amity on bass and usually vocals, Luz and Hunter on lead and rhythm guitar respectively, Gus on keys/synths and Willow on drums) and shows up to all their practices and the small shows they get to do (things like classmates' birthdays, big festivals/town parties celebrating Belos and the Collector's defeats after the fact, left-hand relief effort fundraisers and dubiously legal music festivals held in the backwoods of latissa).

Raine hypes each and every one of them the FUCK up and spends hours giving them all pointers on their individual instruments and how to play as a unit and, like, listen. Raine is not a parental figure to any of them, really. They just don't have that kind of connection to anyone but King as their step son. But the kids all think Raine is cool as fuck and they crave positive encouragement in their lives. They love Raine. They'd die for Raine. Kill for Raine. Try new tunings and time signatures for Raine (VERY scary). They like being in a band cause it's an excuse to goof off together, express themselves and experiment with a different type of magic, but most of all, they love being in a band bc the middle aged political dissident fucking their friend's adoptive mom is just really goddamn supportive of them.

Nothing particularly noteworthy comes from the band (you guys can suggest fun names for them that are more creative than "the hexsquad"). It truly is just a thing on the side they do for fun and they all have individual careers and hobbies they're far more interested in (Gus is a teaching assistant at Eda's school (qualified to be full time but not allowed to bc of his age, has to wait a few more years), Amity is a field researcher and budding archeologist, Willow is going pro with sports, Hunter is carving and Luz is pursuing higher education).

The most that happens with it is they record a low quality CD (or magic CD equivalent) of demos and covers they put together (Luz and Willow are the main song writers for the group. Both had a lot of angsty pre-teen poetry they work shopped and repurposed for lyrics) that ended up being sold out of the back of Steve's motorcycle (his main career besides burger flipping and baby sitting, all of which makes him infinitely more happy than the emperor's coven ever did).

Raine not only bought a copy of the CD (despite having already heard them play every song before and having been the one to help them record it in the first place) they purchase a copy for ALL of their parents/extended family (Eda, King, Perry, the Parks, Darius, Camila, Gwen and Dell- everyone). Years after the band unofficially dissolves (re: the kids got actual jobs and started having to deal w/ life as adults), Raine still listens to that CD bc they're just so damn proud of their kids.

[aeolianblues]

got excited, queued the next 3 weeks worth of Song-To-Go. You’re all stuck with me now :)

[moonfurthetemmie]

Happy Halloween!

I have no tribute to give, but I did just watch Repo! The Genetic Opera and unfortunately for all the fictional characters that I play with like dolls in my head, I have been given ideas for Gouge

[sheep-sorbet]

i literally can not stand people being pretentious about music....like stfu. i don't care. you sound like my dad. you sound like a 64 year old overgrown military brat who smokes too much weed and hates his wife and thinks playing the guitar makes him cool. just listen to the sounds coming out of your speakers and shut up

[advestager]

i've lowkey appreciated my mystery neighbour's musical taste for abt a year now, but i just realised that today's Distant Song Hint i couldn't quite decipher through several walls and god knows how many houses was scratching at my brain so insistently bc it's avril lavigne's magnum opus when you're gone so if y'all will excuse me i need to go find out their identity and kiss them directly on the mouth

[idealisticaspirations]

To add to this (new to Tumblr btw so I'm sorry if formatting is an issue, or if otherwise I have bad etiquette)

While it is great when intimacy is just a *click* oftentimes it takes effort, and effort is neither good nor bad, but it can be hard, does that make it any less worth it to get to that understanding? To resolve an issue, make new friends, to love one another more deeply and earnestly?

Remember always that *presence sets the stage for conversation* sometimes you just have to push yourself out there, otftentimes into the space of other people, other groups, and that's *okay*, it's okay to take up space, as we all do, and it's okay to have conversations both big and small, meaningless and meaningful

you need to be earnest. you need to tell people that you love them. you need to speak on how you’re feeling honestly. you need to be sentimental. you need to stop letting the fear of other people laughing at you have so much control over how you express yourself. you need to get over yourself. you need to be embarrassing but true.

[a9saga]

tbt - the academy is... - beware! cougar! // speaking of the academy is...

[x-blue-spring-x]

Reincarnated Sukuna who vowed to take a different path this time, but ended up falling into the bad boy vibe trap because it lures him like a moth to the flame. Suits him too.

Reincarnated Sukuna with his vibrant pink hair, symmetrical nose rings and vivid black tattoos, so utterly unafraid of standing out, but still hoping to find a place for himself all the same.

Reincarnated Sukuna who loves music above all else, plays it obnoxiously loudly through his headphones at every opportunity, plasters the walls of his apartment with his favourite album covers, ripped jeans and band tees that fit him like a glove.

Reincarnated Sukuna who isn’t necessarily the kind of man you want to introduce to your parents, coarse and dry humoured, acerbic wit accompanying his punk exterior. It would be enough to make your mother faint.

Reincarnated Sukuna who spends hours wandering around at night absorbing the city, watching the sun sink low between tower blocks while he craves the wide open spaces of the countryside.

Reincarnated Sukuna who feeds the birds on his fire escape every morning, finding pleasure in their sweet songs before the sound of traffic humming on the streets below him starts up. Who scowls at anyone who disturbs him.

Reincarnated Sukuna who makes friends with a stray tom cat, one with chunks missing from its ears and half a tail. Occasionally they can be seen moving through the streets together, Sukuna has even been known to offer the cat an earphone to listen to Slayer.

Reincarnated Sukuna who finds his feline friend injured one day, limping on a paw that looks painful, meowing loudly.

Reincarnated Sukuna who ends up in the vet office you work at, shooting you a devilish grin across the counter as he asks who your favourite band is.

Reincarnated Sukuna who, despite his tough exterior, thanks you for fixing up his kitty with a reasonably sweet smile.

Reincarnated Sukuna who rocks up at your door hours after closing time, insisting that he educates you on the very best of metal, black roses in one hand and the cat purring under one arm.

You don’t question the guy with red eyes about how he found your address.

[cherryredstars]

Hey sweetie hoping you're doing well

What about a college au where Miguel is a punk and reader is a smarty coquette? And Miguel is very teasing with her to catch her attention... Very enemies to lovers (with smut)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Fluff, Penetrative Sex, Slight Mentions of Bondage

Summary: He loves how you wear your ribbons.

A/N: This request is so cutesy!! I hope you're doing well too, love!

Unedited

You hate him.

Which hurts you to say because you really do try your best not to hate anyone. But Miguel O'Hara makes it very easy to hate someone. You're just so tired of him! It's like he makes it his life mission to make you angry. Which makes you even more mad because he likes seeing you angry because he just loves making fun of how you look when you're mad!

He's always trying to annoy you. He finds it hilarious to pull on the ends of your bows, making them uneven and loose. You have to spend well over 5 minutes trying to fix your hair while he snickers about it. He's always pulling you back by tugging on your necklace of the day, maybe even pulling the ends of your styled hair. To him, there is always something nasty to point out about your carefully crafted outfits, let it be the quaint design, the ruffles, or even the freaking soft color of it. He finds some sick enjoyment in messing up your aesthetic notebooks and pens, removing the small decorations off of them when you're not looking or dirtying them with graphite stains. He always has to comment about something. He's making fun of the stuff he sees you liking on social media when he's being nosy. Has to tell you how utterly trash your music taste is as a Lana Del Ray song is sung under your breath. Can't let you have an ounce of peace when you talk about how badly you want the new Sonny Angels collection or looking for a specific Calico Critters set. Don't even get him started about all the pastel, cute items you have saved on Pinterest or on your home decor wish list.

But honestly, Miguel is a sucker for everything about you. He's constantly on his knees every time you walk into the lecture hall wearing your frilly skirts and dresses. Damn near collapses of a heart attack when he pulls on the silky bows in your hair or on your necklaces and the sweet smelling perfume you wear hits his nose. He's itching to steal one of your pens so he can have it everywhere he goes or taking a peak into your notebook to look at the dainty notes you are so concentrated on taking. He likes peering into your ribbon-filled world, trying to understand the 'relatable' posts you like about your favorite things. His browsing history is of the little toys you keep mentioning, an occasional search for room decor breaking the stream of Sonny Angels links. He has that one Lana Del Ray Album that you keep singing saved to his music app, and he much prefers your covers.

He finds luck where you find despair. While he loves the fact your professors always pair you two together because of your smarts, you find dread in knowing you can't escape him throughout the weekdays. You always have a pout on your glossy lips as you reluctantly take your seat next to him, your tote bag falling on the long desks with a thump to further emphasize your mood. It makes him chuckle, seeing your obvious dislike of being around him. It makes his heart skip a beat every time you turn to him, warning him in a low whisper to not get on your nerves today. In turn, he should be telling you not to distract him. He can't count how many times he's stopped paying attention to the lecture because he's watching you reapply your lip gloss or fix your hair from the corner of his eye. He's paralyzed for a good minute when you spray your perfume, leaning his arm the slightest bit out so the smell can cling to his leather jacket throughout the day.

But he finds himself the luckiest when he's walking through your dorm room for a project, taking in the distinct smell of you and a room that looks exactly like your Pinterest boards. He isn't exactly sure how it happens, but one second your notebooks are sprayed out against the covers of your bed, and the next they're a crumpled mess on your floor as he has you pinned under him. Your soft bed sheets have nothing on your skin as his rough hands travel up your legs and arms, pulling down the straps of your dress and untying them from the back. He's never been more in love with your bows than the moment your dress slips off your body to reveal the small bows decorating your underwear. It makes him groan as he slips them off your body, making a mental note to please take them home with him when he's done.

As much as he loves the ribbons in your hair, he can't help but think how pretty you look when your hair falls around your shoulders. He much prefers the look of the silk ribbon around your wrists, making sure the ends are even and the bow is tied in perfect loops. Your glossy lips look divine as they drop open in a moan as he pushes into your tight cunt, obsessed with the way your walls pulsate around his leaking cock. And the way you call out his name in that wobbly tone, so different from the low hisses you usually give him, has him gritting his teeth to will himself not to shoot his load so soon. His mind is as loopy as your bows when he buries his face in your neck, huffing at the smell of vanilla cherry and sweat and sex on your skin. He feels like he's in paradise, and even the low tones of Lana's voice filling the room doesn't take away anything from the moment.

Don't question him when that pink ribbon around your wrists goes missing after this, because there is no way in hell he isn't taking that home with him too.

Part 2 Part 3

[innerfare]

Type of Date - Part 1

Summary: What sort of dates do they take you on?

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

——— 

Luffy: Everyone thinks he’d want to take you to dinner, probably to an all you can eat buffet, but this boy would actually drag you to an amusement/theme park. You’ll go on all the rides, riding the scariest ones multiple times over, and by the end of the day, you’ll have a stack of photos taken just before the roller coaster dropped. He’ll probably want to grab a bite to eat afterward, as if he didn’t already sample everything the amusement park had to offer; definitely something casual, like a burger or bbq joint. 

Zoro: He’ll take you to play laser tag, and don’t think for a second you’ll be playing on the same team. You’ll be on opposite teams, and he will not be going easy on you. Zoro doesn’t believe in letting people win. He’ll be briefing his team beforehand, drawing up a strategy because he is determined to win. If you beat him, he won’t propose, but he will decide he’ll be marrying you one day. Would also be content to go see an action movie. 

Sanji: This man will take you on the best picnic of your life, a picnic so good he’ll have you wondering why you ever thought restaurants were the epitome of fine dining. It won’t just be delicious, it will be an aesthetic dream, with a wicker basket, checkered blanket, and even a small bouquet of flowers in a glass jar. If he takes you on a picnic beneath the stars, he’ll light candles and be sure to have an extra blanket to keep you warm. Oh, and champagne. Definitely will open a bottle of champagne. 

Ace: Ace will take you either go karting or rock climbing, probably the former. He won’t admit it to you, not even to himself, but he is the sort to let you win, though he pouts when he loses. Like he’ll plan to beat you, but he just can’t stop himself from taking his foot off the gas just before he reaches the finish line. After you’re tuckered out, he’ll take you to a ramen place, where you end up starting several inside jokes. Once you’ve been dating for a little while, he’ll take you on longer dates to parks and even camping on the beach; anything outdoors. 

Sabo: Takes you to the aquarium or zoo, the two of you wandering around hand in hand, pointing at different animals and saying, "that's you." Also takes you on a lot of picnics (far less elaborate than the ones Sanji plans) that you spend either in silence or editing his manuscript. And he knows the lay of the land in terms of hole in the wall restaurants, quiet little nooks where you can cozy up to one another and not be disturbed. Will occasionally risk it all to take you to water parks despite being a wanted man.

Law: Museum date, full stop. Probably a science museum, but would happily do a fine art museum. If museums were open at night, it would definitely be a nighttime museum date, but he’ll settle for a weekday when nobody’s there. The two of you will lose track of time going from exhibit to exhibit discussing what’s on display. And Law is definitely the sort of guy to read up on the exhibits beforehand to impress you. Would also take you to a bookstore and buy you anything you want if you agree to sit with a coffee afterward.  

Kid: He’ll take you to a concert, best seats in the house. He would prefer rock, but he’ll go to any concert you want. Honestly has no qualms about pulling up to an Ariana Grande or Taylor Swift concert with you, won’t go so far as to learn the lyrics but will nod his head and dance with you because he doesn’t believe people should be ashamed of their music taste (that being said, he can’t help but be embarrassed by just how much he likes Olivia Rodrigo; Sour is punk rock and Brutal is his favorite song, no matter what Killer says). He’ll buy you two matching t-shirts, too. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

Bad moon rising I

Summary: After a nasty divorce, you and your family are forced to live with your Grandpa in the lovely notorious Santa Carla, California. Filled with punks, geeks, surfer nazis and apparently all kinds of creatures of the night.

Word count: 3.1k

Poly!lost boys x Emerson!reader

[1] [2] [3] [4]

A/n: This is the first time writing for the lost boys, I will let yall know if there are any major warnings in each chapters or not. But I hope that you guys enjoy reading the first chapter.

‘Don't go around tonight

Well it's bound to take your life

There's a bad moon on the rise’

Your legs were killing you. 

After hours of sitting in the back seat of the Land Cruiser, you were growing restless. And Nanook didn’t really help when the dog draped his entire body over your lap, his weight making both of your legs go numb. 

You could hear the sounds of your brothers and mom arguing over which radio station they should listen too for the rest of the drive. The occasional static from the radio making you roll your eyes. 

Maybe your legs weren’t the only thing tired from the long drive, maybe the voices of your family were starting to drive you crazy. 

“Oh,” your mom suddenly said, turning up the music that was currently on. “This one is from my generation.” A smile inched its way on your face as you watched mom dance along to the music. 

Both Sam and Micheal turned to face each other, a soft grin playing other lips as they listened to the ole timey song. “Keep going.” They said together. 

“Ok, ok, I get it.” Mom said as she switched the channel. “My music isn’t hip enough for you guys.”

You leaned forward in your seat, hand resting on Nanooks fur to keep him still. “Hip?” 

“Yeah, you know. Cool, fresh, narly.” Your mom told you, bringing her hand up to do a surfers hand gesture. 

You glanced over at Micheal, trying to see if he too was hearing what mom was describing. He just gave you a playful eye roll, and a shake of his head. Not wanting to tell mom that nobody actually used those words in real life. 

“We’re almost there.” Your mom told you in a sing song manor. 

Glancing past Micheal you saw a billboard, the words Welcome to Santa Carla read across the front, an image of the towns beach drawn on cartoonishly. 

Sam let out a gag, his nose turnt up towards the window. “What’s that smell?” He asked, quickly rolling up the glass to try and block the stench from entering the car. 

Mom closed her eyes, taking a long sniff of the outside breeze. “That’s the ocean air, baby”

“It smells like someone died.”

You snorted at your youngest brothers comment, he wasn’t totally wrong. The saltyness that suffocated the air around you was a bit much, but you’d grow used to it, you all will eventually. 

“Look guys, I know the last year has been tough.” Mom said, glancing back at the rear view mirror at both you and Micheal. “But I think your really gonna like it here.”

You couldn’t count on either hands on how many times your mother had said those exact words to you three. It always starts with the ‘I know’ and always ends in your really gonna like this place. But, if you were being a hundred percent honest you missed back home. 

All of your friends and what’s left of your now broken family is all back home in Phoenix. And you know that mom is doing all that she can to keep everything positive, but deep down you know that the divorce is hurting her just as badly as it is hurting you and your brothers. 

As the car continued to drive down the road, you watched as the sign showed the back. It was packed with graffiti art and even a couple of stickers stuck to wood. But, what caught your attention most was the five letter word painted in black and red. 

Murder capital of the world.

Upon entering Santa Carla, you’ve noticed that there is just about any type of person you could imagine walking along the streets. There were girls in bathing suits, guys with halve shaved heads, groups of tourists, the locals, nerds, jocks. Hell you even saw a dog with its fur colored pink. 

You just hoped that at night the people were better looking. 

Mom pulled beneath the cover of a food shack, allowing everyone to step out and get some fresh air after ten hours on the road. Sam leashed up Nanook and took him to the bathroom, also venturing his new home town by himself as he did so. 

You woke up your legs as you stepped out of the Land Cruiser, the nerves shooting up and down your body, you wobbled a bit on your feet before steadying yourself against the car. You felt sweat begin to form beneath your clothes, causing them to stick uncomfortably to your skin. “Holy cow.” You muttered gently fanning yourself to try and cool off a little. 

You were used to the heat from the sun, but God, the humidity is what’s gonna kill you this summer.  

As you continued to fan yourself off, you noticed all the small shops that surrounded you. They were old and kind of antique-ish looking. But, past that laid the boardwalk, were you knew you’d be spending the remainder of you summer break and nights. 

Sam came jogging back towards the car, Nanook right on his tail. He stopped before mom as he pointed a finger at the boardwalk behind him. “Mom! Mom, there’s and amusement park right on the beach.”

Instead of acknowledging the said park, you watched as mom pulled out a small wad of cash. Placing it in Sam’s hand she gestured to a group of homeless kids rummaging through the dumpster. “Sam, tell those kids to eat something. Will ya’?”

As you watch Sam walk over towards the kids, you notice a telephone pole covered from head to toe in posters. Stepping away from the car and wandering over you read a few, hoping to catch a couple help wanted ads or even just something small enough to help out your family. 

Though instead of any job listing you did find a good amount of missing children posters. Actually, it’s just about a missing everyone poster. There is a little boy that looks about six, a grainy picture of him is nailed down with staples. And beside it is a man in what looks like his mid to early fourties, his balding head and crooked teeth makes you wonder who would miss a guy like that. 

Glancing past the telephone pole, you eyed the teenagers in the dumpster carefully. For all you know these kids could go missing next, and no one would try and look for them. 

The thought made your stomach twist in a discusted knot, the idea that you or even one of your brothers could turn up missing one day and nobody would bat an eye, didn’t sit right with you. 

A car honked from behind you, turning around you noticed that your family is back in the cars AC and that they are all waiting on you. “Y/n, sweetheart.” Your mom called, poking her head out the window. “We have to go, grandpas waiting for us.”

You quickly made your way back to the car, plopping back down in your seat as mom slowly pulled out of the food shack. The feeling of cold breeze in your face cooled you off a lot more than your hand did. 

After a while the car pulled up to an old two story house, the arch way made out of tree limbs and nails made you question how sturdy that would actually be in a storm. Once the car came to a complete stop everyone piled out, the dirt road beneath you dirtied up the end of your blue jeans. The bottom of your converse’s making little patterns in the grime. 

Micheal, who had decided to ride his bike for the rest of the drive, slowly unstradled the vehicle, his eyes darting around the front yard of the house. Wood carvings of animals and an old trailer was near the back of the yard, the fence that surrounded us was slightly spaced out and cut into sharp ends. 

“This is homey.” You muttered to micheal, the backpack that you carried felt heavy on your back after hours of not wearing it. 

Micheal hummed in agreement, albeit sarcasticly. 

Glancing back at the house itself, you took in the porch, it had one too many rocking chairs and wooden tables for you to count. There were even empty beer bottles rolling across the porch floor. But, you stopped judging the home style around you when you noticed a pair of legs laid out on the ground. 

Taking erie steps, you all cautiously eyed the body. Both fear and concern bubbling deep inside of you. Fear that this would be the first dead body you’ve seen and concern over who will come and clean it. 

Mom walked ahead of you and your brothers, crouching down by the head of the body. “Dad?” She asked, swiping hair out of his face as she did so. “Dad?”

“It looks like he’s dead.” Micheal stated, eyes glancing swiftly from his mom and the supposedly dead body before them. 

Mom shook her head, gently shaking her dad awake. “No, he’s just a heavy sleeper.” 

“Why is he asleep on the porch?” Micheal asked, trying to understand the older man. 

You leaned over Sam’s shoulder, taking in the supposedly dead corpse in front of you. “Is the heat from the sun gonna make his body decay faster?” You pondered out loud, ignoring the glare your mom gave you. 

“Yeah. And if he’s dead can we move back to Phoenix?” Sam added on for you, receiving the same look your mom just gave you. 

“The both of you be quiet.” She scolded. 

Suddenly grandpas head popped up, his eyes half lidded as he held a smug smirk. “Playin’ dead. And, from what I heard doing a damn good job of it, too.”

You watched as mom playfully swatted at her dad, before leaning down and giving him a good hug. Sharing a quick glance at your brothers, they both held the same expression that you did. Confused and slightly baffled at how the old man acts. 

The inside of the house looked just like the cabins from Friday the thirteenth. The floor was wood, the stairs were wood, an even the walls were wood. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if the refrigerator and sink were made out it, too.

You walked through the house with a cardboard box labeled kitchen, both Sam and Micheal right behind you. Though Micheal was carrying a barbell with a couple of weights and shirts on it, and Sam had a bowl on his head with tied up comics ontop. 

“This place is straight out of a horror movie.” Sam whined, as they reached the kitchen. “I wouldn’t be surprised if their are dead body’s buried somewhere.”

“It’s not that bad.” you tried to reason, placing the box onto the counter and cutting through the tape. 

Sam stared at you bewildered, “Not that bad? Not that bad!” He started to raise his voice, setting down the comics and bowl beside you as he continued. “There’s no TV. Have you seen a TV? I haven’t seen a TV.”

You shrugged your shoulders, taking a couple porcelain plates from the box and setting them in a cabinet. “Use your imagination.”

“Imagination?” The boy raised his voice a little bit higher. “You know who else used there imagination? The Torrence family, and they ended up trying to kill each other.”

“Ok, one this is not The Shinning. And, two, you kill me I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life.” 

Micheal chuckled at yours and Sam’s conversation, “Oh, you think this is funny Micheal?” Sam asked the irritation of no TV or even MTV was starting to get to him. 

“A little.” He told his brother, placing the barbell down and walking back towards the car. “But, we’re flat broke, Sammy. Can’t afford a new TV for this joke of a place.”

You walked back and forth from the car, box after box, cutting open and placing your stuff with Grandpas. It was tiring, but, you wanted to get it done now so that you could go to the boardwalk tonight. 

Though your brothers on the other hand, weren’t as helpful as you were trying to be. 

Sam ran through the living room, swaying between the boxes that littered the ground as he sprinted away from Micheal. The said older boy was running down the stairs, he hoped over the railing near the bottom and took off after Sam. 

You were pulling out a vase from a box, tearing off the bubble wrap and placing it perfectly on the table. You took a small step back and eyed the spot, debating if you should move it one way or another for it to look right. 

But, as you stepped back, you acidently stood right infront of Micheal’s path. He collided with your side, sending you both tumbling to the ground. “Dammit, Micheal!” You shouted, quickly getting up just as your brother did. Continuing with his chase after Sam, you immediately ran after him. 

“Hey, guys, no running in the house.” Mom called out to the three of you, though no one paid her any mind as you all just continued to chase one another. 

Sam stopped before two sliding doors, shoving each of them open. You and Micheal caught up with your brother, you about ready to shove Micheal for knocking you to the ground, when you saw what laid behind the double doors. 

Taxidermy animals laid on the table in front of you, some were even hung up to the ceiling because there was no more room on the surface. The three of you stood shocked at the room, you more disturbed that so many dead animals were cut open like they currently were. 

“I think we found the dead bodies, Sam.” You told him, referring to your earlier talk about grandpa hiding dead corpses. 

Sam let out a snort, eyeing the room with interest. Micheal leaned up against your side, his elbow coming up to rest on your shoulder. Even at pratically the same height he liked to remind you which of the two was the tallest. 

“Talk about Texas chainsaw massacre.” 

“Rules.” A voice suddenly called out, bringing each of your attention to grandpa who had a cardboard box in hand. “We got some rules around here.”

He gestured with his hand to follow, which you all did begrudgingly. The old man led you to the refrigerator, and upon opening it you saw a sign that read, ‘Old fart’. You hid your amused smile behind your hand as Grandpa began to explain the rules. 

“The second shelf is mine.” He stated matter of factly, easing the sign to show a couple of beer bottles and a box of Oreos hidden behind it. He waved a finger at all three of you, “Don’t nobody touch the second shelf, ya’ hear.”

You nodded along with your brothers, grandpa then waddled out of the kitchen leaving you to trail behind him. You watched discustedly as Micheal began to shove his finger in Sam’s ear, the younger boy trying to push him away when Micheal wrapped an arm around the poor boys neck. 

Clearing his throat, Micheal directed his attention back at grandpa. “Hey, grandpa? Is it true that Santa Carla is the murder capital of the world?” He asked, refusing to let Sam go from his grasp. 

Murder capital of the world. 

Those were the exact words you’d read off the back of the billboard. You hadn’t known that Micheal had read that aswell, although he appears to be taking the towns chosen nickname more jokingly than you had. 

Grandpa slowly turned back around to face the three of you, his eyes darting across each face. “There are some bad elements around here.” He told you, though his voice seemed to be a lot more serious than anything. 

Sam finally shoves Micheal off of him, “Woah, wait a minute. You mean to tell me that we moved to the murder capital of the world?” He asked, getting close to the old man’s face. “Are you serious grandpa?”

You watched as grandpa took his time with his next words of choice. “Well- let me put it this way; if all the corpses buried around here were to stand up at once, we’d have a serious population problem.”

That did about anything but soothe your racing mind. Are we gonna get killed here? Are you actually going to go missing and nobody would care? Could Sam, Micheal or even mom turn up dead one day?

Your thoughts immediately went back to the missing posters, all the untraced people that had disappeared off the face of the earth. And not one of them had been found. You don’t think your gonna like it here all that much, you concluded. 

Mom suddenly sauntered in the living room, a stack of hats resting ontop of her head. “Oh, Dad. You’re gonna give them nightmares.” She told him, not wanting to deal with three teenagers wandering into her room at night complaining about what grandpa had told them. 

Grandpa waved his hand, dismissing her accusation. Changjng the conversation, he picked up a TV guide that sat on the end table, waving back to you and your brothers he began to explain another rule of his. 

“Now, when the mailman brings the TV guide on wensdays, sometimes the corner of the address label will curl up.” He pointed to the address label on the guide, the corner slowly thrusting itself up towards the ceiling. “You’ll be tempted to peel it off. Don’t. You’ll end up ripping the cover, and I don’t like that

He tossed the TV guide back on a different table, making his way back to the taxidermy room. He yanked the sliding doors together and they closed with a great, smack. “And stay out of here.”

Grandpa then walked away, though not before Sam stood in his pathway, excitement rising in his chest. “There’s a TV?” He asked, slightly crossing his fingers for the man to say yes. 

“No. I just like to read the TV guide. Read the guide and you don’t need the Tv.” He then walked away, leaving Sam with a disappointed look. 

“See,” you told him, walking towards a couple of boxes that were laid about the living room floor. “Now, you get to use you imagination.”

Sam pointed a finger at you, “When we go crazy, here- and we will, you’ll be the first that I kill.”

You pushed Sam out of your way with your shoulder, balancing the box on your hip. “Then be prepared for me to haunt you until the end of times, Samuel Emerson.”

A/a/n: Hello and thank you for reading the first chapter :) Now we won’t meet the boys until the next chapter, but I am debating if I should just make that chapter about you meeting them or add on. I still haven’t decided. But thank you again and the next chapter will be done as quickly as possible ;)

[the-kr8tor]

Yk what I think would be really cute. Hobie with a florist reader. Hobie’s a street performer who finds his little spot right outside readers shop. He sees reader come every early morning to open her shop and how she closes it every night. He needs to talk to her🙏🙏🙏

Thank you for this cute prompt! I hope you like it ❤️😊

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, CW injury, shy! Reader, lovestruck! Hobie, fluff!

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Hobie's soulful song echoes during the early mornings until night falls. Every other week you see him strum the same cherry red guitar right outside your shop for almost two years now. You greet him whenever you open your little corner flower shop, and you murmur a shy goodbye to him every night when it's time to close for the day. And without fail, he always asks you for permission to play in front of your shop, and without a second thought, you always say yes.

Throughout your day, he stands there right outside your window, singing and performing to his heart's content. Sometimes you think he does it just for the love of performing, one day you'll ask him. But for now, you'll gladly toss him a few quid here and there whenever you go out to water the flowers displayed outside. It's your way of saying thank you for always helping you take out the pots from inside and carry deliveries for you even though you haven't asked him to do so. And you always hand him a cup of coffee straight from your own coffee pot, you always tell him that you made too much for today, an excuse to casually converse with the handsome punk.

Hobie always sees you open the shop thirty minutes early, always humming a soft tune as you carry bundles of sweet smelling flowers. He thinks you're as pretty as the flowers you sell, much sweeter too as you always make time to greet him bashfully. The coffees and occasional pastries you hand him with a gentle smile are always a highlight of his day. One day he'll talk to you, not the casual conversation of ‘how was your weekend?’ or ‘how’s business?’ but an actual conversation that he hopes would blossom to a friendship, or maybe more as he glances at you from his usual spot whilst you're watering your flowers that are on display.

“Is that new?” He asks, interrupting your soft humming. “The gardenias, they look a bit different, innit?”

Your smile brightens up the whole street. “You noticed! it's a new type.” Pointing daintily at the petal, you beam at Hobie, finding that he's already smiling at you, his hands paused from playing his music. “See, the petals are bigger than the usual ones, and they smell sweeter too.” Plucking one, you purse your lips together at what you're about to do.

You cross the distance towards him, handing Hobie the flower as you shyly look at him through your lashes. “Here.”

Hobie grins, hands suddenly clammy as he looks into your eyes. “It's mine?”

“Yeah, it's a gift, Hobie.” Your heart threatens to jump out of your chest.

“Thank you, love.” Plucking the flower from your grasp, his warm hand lingers briefly against your own. He has decided that he's going to make a move when you close the shop later. Bringing the flower to his face, he lets the sweet scent waft over his nose. “You're right, it's as sweet as you.”

You chuckle, face warming up from his comment. “Thanks, Hobie.” Without thinking, you nudge his shoulder with your fist, like a guy joking with his mate. You internally cringe to oblivion. “I–I gotta head back.”

Hobie can't help the grin on his lips, absolutely endeared by you. “Sure, love.”

You bounce nervously on the balls of your feet, before heading back inside. “right, bye.

Then, his spidey senses suddenly kick in, sending his adrenaline into overdrive. “Shit, not on my day off.” He guesses that the spider band needs his help. Tucking the flower inside his vest pocket, and with one last look at you through the window, he bolts off into an alleyway.

—

Your hands play with a silky ribbon, rolling it around your fingers then unraveling it again. You're bored out of your mind, all the orders for today have been sent out, and your duties all checked. As you stare out into the distance, elbow perched atop the counter and looking at the same spot Hobie's supposed to be in, you wonder where he went. You saw him sprint off an hour ago, maybe there's an emergency? You're starting to worry that he's not alright or having an awful day.

Placing your chin atop your palms, you watch people pass by the shop, hoping that something happens or you'll die of boredom. Then you see it, a red and blue flash coming straight at you.

Eyes widening, it gets bigger and bigger. You duck under the counter with a yelp. Glass shatters and bursts into the tiny shop, sending shards to clatter around you.

“Wanker!” You hear a curse from behind the counter.

Peeking over, you see someone lying down on the floor, groaning and cradling his shoulder. Realization hits you when you recognize him as the same masked vigilante you keep seeing on the news.

“Spider-Man?” You mumble, legs wobbly from anxiety. “Are you okay?” He freezes in place, shoulders stiff as he slowly looks over his shoulder. “Are you in shock?” With a bit of courage, you dredge through the broken glass to walk over to him. “I have some bandages, but I don't know if that'll help much.” Wringing your hands together, you see the eyes of his mask widen.

“Lo—” he clamps his mouth shut, leaping back to his feet within a split second. Clearing his throat, he shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Are you alright?”

His voice is much more high pitched than you thought it would be. And he's taller in person too, just like someone else you know.

“Yeah, I'm fine. I ducked.” The awkwardness permeates through the air of your broken down shop. “I can't say the same thing for my shop though.”

“Shit,” He lifts a foot up after noticing that he's stepping on a rose. “Sorry, I'll— fuck, I'm sorry.” His gloved hands hover around you, not knowing if he should comfort you with a hug or leave you alone.

You sniff, eyes tearfully looking at your ruined hard work. Putting on a brave face, you smile at him. “I–It's okay, I have insurance.”

“I—” A roar echoes from somewhere, interrupting him. “It's the lizard, I have to…” he points at the green smoke billowing out from the rooftops a few ways ahead.

“Okay,” you nod, smiling nervously at the vigilante. “Be careful, Spider-Man.”

He takes a step forward, but then goes back to face you. “I'll come back and help fix this.”

“You really don't have to.” You wave your palms in front of you, then you unexpectedly take his hand, squeezing it once as you give him your sweetest smile. He smells weirdly of gardenias, it has you smiling even more. “Just beat the crap out of the lizard for me.”

Chuckling, he squeezes you back before reluctantly letting go. Who knew that his other persona would get to hold your hand before his civilian self did. “I will, for you.” Raising his hand, he swings away.

Looking around your shop, you should've been careful of what you wished for. You're just glad that Hobie left before this all happened, or he might've been caught in the crossfire. As you grab a broom, you start your clean-up while you dial your insurance company. You're sure that you availed the villain slash hero accident in the insurance.

—

The sun is just about to set when you finally got to talk to an insurance agent about your predicament. Sighing, there's still so many shards of glass on the floor, not to mention all the crushed flowers and broken flower pots that are scattered all over the shop. Your cleanup wasn't very effective since it's just you and a single broom. With a sigh, you grab the broom again, sweeping relentlessly as the breeze passes by the broken windows. You definitely need something to cover it up.

As you sweep, you spot a familiar pair of boots coming your way from your peripheral. You crane your neck, sighing in relief when you see Hobie trying to catch his breath.

“Hobie.” You beam at him, and he smiles back, hands reaching for you. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard.” He grasps at your elbow, calloused fingers squeezing you lovingly, heart aching at the state of your flower shop. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I'm fine.” You hold onto the top of his hand, thumb brushing along a bandaid on the side of his palm. Looking down, you see a dozen or so bandaids on his arms and hands. “Shit, did you get caught in the fight?” Taking his palms, you worriedly glance all over his tiny cuts.

Hobie chuckles, shaking his head as he makes you look at him with his index lifting up your chin. “I'm good, love.” He pats at his leather vest, where the gardenia you gave him rests. It's a bit beaten up from the looks of it, but it's fully intact. “My lucky charm saved me.”

Exhaling from the relief, you haven't noticed that you're still holding onto his hand. “I'm glad my flower protected you.”

“I heard it's a new kind of gardenia.”

“Capable of saving you, I heard.”

The two of you stare at each other under the glow of the sunset, savouring the peaceful moment.

Numerous footsteps suddenly come your way, prompting you to look at the group of punks smiling at you while holding onto cleaning supplies and the biggest tarp you've ever seen.

“I also heard that you need help cleanin’ up. Brought some extra hands.”